


Awaken

by SherlyWats



Category: Halloween (2018), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Celtic Mythology & Folklore, F/M, Set in the '78-2018 timeline, also used info from the novelization of the '78 film, darkship, written for self-indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlyWats/pseuds/SherlyWats
Summary: A small scene between Michael and Cleena set after the event of Wake Part 1 to work on developing their dynamic as well as Michael's perspective on Cleena.





	Awaken

Blood caked the edges of open wounds that fresh plasma still dripped from. The petite woman before him had set to the task of trying to clean them with little success. Both his coveralls and the shirt beneath clinging tight to his body as the blood dried. 

She shot him an almost pleading glance and before her mouth opened to ask the question he‘d begun to carefully shed the garments. 

That spark that questioned how he knew dancing in her eyes. Pools formed of seawater that he felt he’d gazed into for an eternity. Which upon secondary thought wasn’t all together true or false. He was certain he had looked upon them before or more accurately a past him had eons before this form was even a concept. They had left him all that time ago at his own hand. A once pristine ocean dimmed and darkened to grey by hurricane clouds. Here before him though was that same expanse of sea-green after so many years of endless cycles. 

He caught the way they roamed over him now. Cleena had seen his upper half before, that he knew. Something had switched between the then and now though. What she once viewed as a deformed and horrible creature had transformed. Gone was the fear and the glances for any potential at escape. The monster had become a crow that devoured its prey amidst the snow. She’d realized this during the time he had stayed within her home and it had rooted itself into the pair in different ways. The way the forever roses of her cheeks bloomed more fully was part of that. 

Michael made a sound akin to a snort at her. The sound seemed to draw her back to him. That look which he saw far too often in the eyes of his victims as he stalked them floated there. Taunting him. As that craving subsided he read it’s replacement. Worry. 

The killer canted his head slowly to one side in questioning. Before the motion was even completed though the answer had dawned upon him. His own eye scanning the expanse of his chest. A roving patchwork of scar tissue some of which seemed nearly as old as he was. 

Another snort at the concern which played across her features. Sure it wasn’t pretty but he had pushed through it all. Surviving despite the impossible odds that had greeted him. Scars were of no concern even those wounds which now still dripped red upon his skin didn’t bother him. Despite the woman’s insistence that it must and that she must attend to them. 

Her hand touched his chest, finger slowly tracing over an old bullet wound. Electric currents coursed through his veins at the contact. Suffocating back the sound which dared to emerge from his throat. He didn’t need a mirror to know that look he’d seen in her eyes and so deeply hated had ebbed into his own. Despite his best efforts that guttural sound found its way from his throat and into the air. 

Cleena froze and the faint play of emotions across her features caused a flexing of his hand around an object that wasn’t there. A shape looming over him all consuming. Paralyzed in its spot by the visage before him. Killer intent stuck in a loop of wanting to act yet being unable to against her. That sensation of something like helplessness he was unfamiliar with and fully despised sinking in. 

Michael pushed her away with enough strength that she became unbalanced and toppled hard onto the floor. She was breathless and confused yet fear remained absent. Standing, his hand flexed once more. Digits desiring the familiar shape of a wooden handle. Vocal chords still unaccustomed to their job trying to recall how to shout. The sound coming out low and gravely. A short burst of repressed frustration and burning rage. It wasn’t enough. 

Heavy boots stepped hard across the wooden floor to where she’d fallen. An urge to pin her beneath his feet arising only to fall as fast as it had come. He made another sound. No longer an attempt at a shout but a rough attempt to question her. To ask what she had done to him and how she had done it. To ask what protected her from that darker shape of himself.

Reflections of the past seemed to play before him. A warring conflict between the form of Enda he’d been for so many years and that of Naoise which he’d never considered. Deirdre before him without that expression of terror he expected, desired even. One wanting to end her over and over. The other to envelop her in all those ways he’d so often caught teens doing from the shadows. Both remained motionless 

Cleena pulled herself up slowly, seeming to weigh her options as she did. “Michael?” Her voice was quiet, hitting his ears like soft cotton. 

Her uttering his name seemed to rebound around the room. Had she ever addressed him as such before? No, of that he was certain. It seemed to hit then with more power then any bullet which had penetrated his flesh. It had never been one or the other. Both existed there within him. It was Deirdre’s presence before him that had them battling for dominance. 

The Irishwoman dared to step nearer to him. Summing him up in that way he still found laughable. Attempting a delicate balance on the tips of her toes so her face was closer to his own. 

The Shape lost. 

It was a slow movement, the intent of which could have been easily read by any onlooker. An arched decent downwards to meet her. The touch wasn’t rough and unpracticed nor gentle and experienced. It lingered somewhere between the two. A heat seemed to emanate from her that burrowed deep into his chest and worked its way down. 

For once there was a comforting silence in his mind. Not one which at times rang louder than the voice. This was a comfortable quiet. He held onto the moment with an iron grip, short though it was. 

Stepping back he saw her as she was. Not as a ghost that tormented him, but as “Klee-u-na” a name he uttered softly and for no one but her.


End file.
